


A Dose From A Freaky Ghost

by thepriexperience



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester/Reader Smut, F/M, Pre-Established Relationship, Supernatural Parody 2, The Hillywood Show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepriexperience/pseuds/thepriexperience
Summary: The reader and Dean usually work on Halloween, but this year, there’s no case. That doesn’t mean they can’t play the part.





	A Dose From A Freaky Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I had intended to re-release this one in October, but Supernatural Parody 2 by The Hillywood Show came out yesterday and changed my mind.

“Halloween is next week.” **  
**

Dean glances down at the woman in his arms. She’s tracing the outline of his tattoo, tucked up against his side, her leg tangled in both of his.

“Yeah. You find a case?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Huh. That’s cool. I don’t remember the last time we didn’t have work on Halloween. What’s it been, something like three years?”

“Four. The cult in Alabama, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” He blanches at the memory. “Try not to remember that one, honestly.”

She laughs, soft and warm across his skin. “I can’t imagine why.”

He bumps his chin against her head playfully.  “Shut up.”

She snuggles closer to him, stretches out her arm to curl her hand around his waistline, thumb stroking his ribs in a way that almost tickles but feels too good to protest. Five years together, and Dean still can’t get enough of this woman.

“So. Halloween,” he prompts.

“There’s a party at that bar we like to go to. I saw the sign when we were there last time. It’s a costume party…”

Dean takes this in for a second. A costume party? Doesn’t he dress up enough for the job? But she doesn’t push or say anything else. She’ll let it drop, he knows she will.

“You want to go,” he says.

“We don’t have to.”

“There’s no reason we can’t.”

“Costumes aren’t required,” she offers.

Dean kisses her forehead. “No sense going to a costume party without a costume. What’d you have in mind?”

He can feel her smile against his chest before she kisses his skin. Dean figures what’s one more day pretending to be someone else if it makes her happy.

Hell, it might even be fun.

*

It is fun. Way more fun than it should be, really.

“Who was your favorite Ghostbuster?” Dean asks, one hand on the wheel as he looks over at her, dressed in the same off-gray jumpsuit as he is.

“Ray,” she says. “Or maybe Peter.”

“I like Peter. Bill Murray is the king.”

“The king of what?”

“Exactly.”

She rolls her eyes, but takes his hand in hers. Dean flashes her a grin and squeezes her fingers, turns his gaze back to the road. Of all the terrible couple’s costumes he had steeled himself to have to wear, this one is awesome. She pulls off the shapeless jumpsuit really well, hair pulled back into a ponytail that she has pulled over one shoulder.

“You look good, sweetheart.”

“Thanks. Do I look like I’m ready to bust ghosts?”

“Damn straight.”

*

The bar is crowded by the time they get there, party already in full swing, and Dean keeps a tight hold on her hand as he leads her through the mass of bodies. He orders two beers from the bartender, then surveys the scene in front of him.

“Looks like the worst day at the office ever,” he jokes, gesturing with his beer to several vampires, two werewolves and a few different zombies.

She laughs, takes a sip of her beer. “No kidding. But, we’re the Ghostbusters. I think we got this.”

He grins, leans over and gives her a quick kiss. “Absolutely.”

They finish their first beers quickly, order another round, then take up a round of darts since all the pool tables are full. Dean has to admit, he’d have never considered coming out on Halloween, but this is a good time. He looks around the bar, nudges her shoulder.

“Did you want to enter the costume contest?”

“Let’s give somebody else a chance to win,” she says with a smile. “But I would like to dance.”

Dean isn’t much of a dancer, but he knows she really wants to, and given what he’s witnessing on the dance floor- well, that’s less like dancing and a  _lot_  more like foreplay. And Dean is  _really_  good at foreplay.

He lets her lead him out onto floor, follows her lead, moving along with her, and it doesn’t take long before he starts to grow hard, grateful for how loose his jumpsuit is. He growls against the nape of her neck, pulls her flush with his chest, his fingers digging into her hips.

“If you don’t behave, we are gonna have to leave this party.”

She just grins, turns around to face him, slips her thigh between both of his. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulls him in for a kiss, then says into his ear,

“When have I ever behaved?”

She bites his earlobe, slides her hand between their two bodies and palms his erection, squeezing lightly. Dean groans, then grabs her hand, ducks his head.

“Two can play at this game, sweetheart.”

“You’re on.”

She never did shy away from a challenge; it’s half her charm. Dean knows this game, and he knows it well, loves the way she tries to hide the way he touches her affects her, the way she makes herself be still. She gives as good as she gets, moving slow and deliberate against him, no matter how fast the song playing is, and Dean continues to follow her lead in that respect, keeping her pressed tightly to him, grinding against her, kissing her neck, her cheek, everything but her lips. He’s about willing to concede defeat, not even sure how long they’ve been at this, when she moans and turns to face him.

“Truce?” she asks.

“Truce. Let’s get out of here.”

*

They don’t make it all the way home.

Dean jerks the car onto the side of the road and manages to get it into park, then he’s on her, devouring her mouth, tasting beer and peanuts and cheap candy, his hands unzipping her jumpsuit, sliding it off her shoulders and down around her hips. He kisses his way down her throat, down between the valley of her breasts, kneeling on the floorboard, his shoulder bumping the steering wheel. Hooking his fingers in the hem of her panties, he pulls them down, just far enough so he can taste her, slip his tongue between her incredibly wet folds and push two fingers inside her.

“Dean!”

She’s already wound up tight from their private game in the bar, and it doesn’t take long to push her over the edge, but Dean wants more of her taste on his tongue, and he doesn’t stop. He’s slows his pace though, his desperation a little less now, even as he rubs himself through his costume, groaning from time to time against her wetness. He teases, nibbles and licks, moves his fingers lazily in and out of her, deliberately getting her closer and closer, but not letting her finish. Dean loves this, the sounds she makes, how high pitched her moans get, the way she threads her fingers through his hair.

“Dean, please. Need you.”

She pushes at his shoulders, scoots back on the seat, and Dean gets off the floorboard to sit next to her, pulled in immediately for a kiss, groaning as she sucks and licks her taste from his chin and lips. He’s already unzipping, shifting to push at his boxers, and she holds onto the collar of his suit, kicking out of one leg of her own before straddling his lap, finding his hand on his arousal. She strokes with Dean, holding eye contact that is so intense that he’s the one who breaks it, using her braid to bring her in closer so he can bury his face in her neck.

It’s an awkward angle, but she manages, him still mostly in his jumpsuit, her more out of it than in. He’s incredibly grateful for how far down the zipper goes, especially since she seems to  _really_  like this costume. He laughs a little as she shifts, her wet heat hovering above him.

“You really like Ghostbusters, huh?”

She lets out a soft laugh. “You look hot in that suit.”

And with that, she sinks onto him, fully sheathing him, and she groans, drops her face into his shoulder, breathing deeply as he wraps his arms around her waist.

“Feels so good, sweetheart.” 

“Dean, oh fuck, Dean.”

“Come on. Let me feel you.”

She pulls away, and Dean watches as she rides him, careful and slow in the front seat of his car, trying not to hit the ceiling with each upwards motion, and fuck, this is  _so hot_. She is so tight and wet, feels so good around him, and she looks amazing, her white bra still on because they were in such a rush.

“You look amazing,” he tells her. “You look so fucking sexy.”

She whimpers, kisses him, tightens up on him and he moans into her mouth, presses his fingertips hard into the soft skin of her back. He holds on to her tightly, hips lifting up to meet every downward move of her hips, and she breathes quick and hard, little high sounds escaping from her mouth.

“Dean,” she says. “Dean- oh God, Dean, you feel so fucking good- Dean,  _fuckDeanfuck!_ ”

He can feel it when she crashes over the edge again, and it feels so good, so tight and hot and wet, and he’s coming with her a second later, squeezing her tightly to his chest as they both writhe desperately against each other, drawing out their pleasure for a long time, until finally they slump, panting in each other’s arms as they come down from their high.

“Happy Halloween,” she says on a breathless giggle.

He laughs, kisses the side of her head. “Happy Halloween.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like this story? Tell me! First three of you to send an ask about this get a drabble of your very own. :)
> 
> the-pri-experience.tumblr.com


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